Projecting
by Foxfeather
Summary: Jean/Kurt. Blame the plotbunny, not me.


Title: Projecting

Author:  Foxfeather

E-Mail: alwest@cityweb.de

Pairing: Kurt/Jean (blame the plotbunny, not me!)

Rating: R (I think NC17 is too much for this)

A/N: If you find something strange sounding in this story, please note that Kurt's German, and so am I. :-)

Disclaimer: X-Evo and it's characters are owned by Marvel, KidsWB and I don't know who else, but definitely not me! *sob*

A big THANK YOU to Nemain, who beta'd this and whose stories kicked my muse out of her vacation! 

But now, on with the story…

The sun was silently vanishing behind the tree line and her dark orange light bathed the lonely figure sitting at its desk and made its fur glow.

_Dear diary._

One should think that I was more clever than that. How could I ever assume she would see me like this? I mean, look at me! Blue fur, yellow eyes, tail, yadda, yadda, yadda… And then look at her…She's beautiful, popular, she's everything I'm not. How could I ever think Jean would see me as her lover?

Kurt Wagner leaned back in his chair and chewed on the end of his pen. He felt hollow, like somebody had scraped out his insides and at the same time, filled up his heart with Tabasco. He burned. Shame, guilt, humiliation, self hatred and not least, self pity boiled inside him. The pen snapped with a sharp sound between his hand and teeth. A sob escaped him and he had to press the balls of his hands against his eyes to hold the tears back as he recalled the events of the day…

­#*#*#

Sunday. He loved Sundays. Time to sleep as long as you want to, no school, no homework… Sunday was funday. Well, normally. Kurt turned over on his side and hid his face in the pillow. Then he eyed the clock on his nightstand. 10:30am. That meant that the others were halfway on they way back. From the greatest rock-concert in history. Where they went without him. 

"Kurt, it would be better for you not to go." 

"Why not? I love these bands!" 

"Yeah, sure, but think of all the people!" 

"What's wrong with them?" 

"Kurt, these are standing area cards." 

"So what?" 

"Switch your brain on, Kurt! It means crowded space, lots of physical contact." 

"Oh. Yeah. The fur problem." 

"Exactly." Pause. "Kurt?" 

"Hm?" 

-cautious- "What are you thinking about?" 

"Perhaps I could borrow the Professor's electric shaver?" 

"What?!" Pause. "Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"You forgot that other problem."

"What other problem?"

"Tail control."

"Oh. I can do that."

"While watching your favorite bands playing your favorite songs on stage. Sure."

"Scott?"

"Hm?"

"I hate you."

"Why, thanks."

Of course Scott had been right. It would have been to risky. At least he wasn't stuck home alone. To everybody's surprise Professor Xavier had volunteered to accompany the students to the concert so that Logan and Storm could stay at the institute, for Grunge was really not their kind of music. Jean had to stay home as well. She had sprained her ankle during a session in the danger room and was confined to non-standing activities for the next two days.

Kurt turned to his other side and groaned. He could cope with Storm and Logan, but Jean? Especially a Jean who was bound to stay in the rec room the whole day long? Somehow, their tastes in videos just didn't match. No, this Sunday was definitely no funday.

After comparing the time with his growling stomach Kurt finally decided to get up. Absentmindedly he brushed his fur as far as it was absolutely necessary, then shrugged into some pants and a shirt and shuffled out of the door.

He was lost in thought about what to eat for breakfast when he heard somebody moan. Kurt stopped and listened. There it was again. It came from a barely used room to his left. Slowly, Kurt stepped nearer and raised his hand to knock when he heard another voice. Logan. He could not understand what he was saying, but then the first voice moaned again. Now Kurt could identify it as Storm's. Both voices moaned again, then Kurt could hear something slapping together. He froze, fist still raised to knock. No. This couldn't be. Storm and Logan? Never. But… the slapping speed increased. Kurt gulped. He noticed his raised hand and quickly hid it behind his back. He considered teleporting away but then he remembered Logan's enhanced senses. Kurt gulped again. The man would slice him to shreds when he found out that Kurt had eavesdropped on their, um, activities. As quietly as possible, Kurt tiptoed away and continued his way down to the kitchen. His face was burning. Who would've thought… 

In the kitchen Kurt busied himself with the contents of the fridge. He tried his best not to think about what he had witnessed, but his thoughts returned to the incident like moths to the flame. Lost in his thoughts like this he was munching down his third plate of randomly put together sandwiches when he noticed that the TV in the rec room was running. And he was at his fourth plate when he came to the conclusion that Jean had to be sitting next door, watching it. He had finished the plate when he noticed that the show running was the Simpsons. And he was skimming the fridge for dessert when he remembered that Jean hated the Simpsons.

Again, he froze, up to his shoulders in the fridge, tail wrapped around the door handle. Jean would never leave the TV running when she left the room. And if Jean was voluntarily watching the Simpsons, there had to be something wrong. Kurt remembered her injury. Perhaps she had slipped and was now lying unconscious on the floor? Kurt paled. If this was the case then he would have to disturb Logan and Storm… Gottogottogott! Please let Jean be alright! Kurt straightened abruptly and hit his head on the edge of the fridge. Rubbing the back of his head with one hand, he used the other to steady himself on the side of the fridge. Cursing under his breath he slammed the door shut with his tail, completely forgetting that part of his left hand was still inside. 

Jammed fingers in his mouth, his right hand still rubbing his head he skiddered over to the rec room, afraid of what he might find.

What he found was something he never expected to see in his whole life.

Jean was lying on the couch. Her bandaged foot was propped up on one arm rest, her head was resting on the other. Her other leg was hanging down from the couch to rest on the floor. She had squeezed her eyes shut and her face bore an expression that bordered on pain. Kurt simply stood in the doorway and ogled, fingers still in his mouth, other hand on his head.

Jean had opened her pants and her right hand had vanished into her panties, moving in a rubbing motion. Her other hand caressed one of her breasts. She was panting and chewing on her bottom lip. Kurt slowly took his fingers out of his mouth, not noticing the string of saliva that began to run down his chin. He blinked a few times, not wanting to believe what he saw. Perhaps there had been something in the food yesterday and he was still sleeping and having a nightmare? But the throbbing in his fingers and the back of his head made him drop that theory. Perhaps this was some kind of attack? Some virus, maybe? And he was the only one immune? He paled. What should he do? What _could_ he do? He blinked again and tried to fight the panic that began to rise in his throat and now threatened to strangle him. He succeeded, but only until he noticed that Jean had opened her eyes and was watching him watching her. This time, the panic used a rope. Kurt started to shake. It never occurred to him to teleport. He tried to find the way back into the kitchen while never losing eye contact to Jean. But nervous as he was he stepped on his tail, lost his balance and ran into the doorframe.

"Kurt?"

"Gah?"

"Help me…"

"Huh?" Kurt pressed his back to the frame and tried to regain his ability to form coherent thoughts. Not to mention coherent speech. 

Jean had gotten up from the couch and was now limping towards him, left hand holding up her pants, right hand stretched out in a begging gesture. 

"Jean, gurgh…" His concentration vanished again when he remembered _where_ that hand had been only seconds before. He tried to blush, but the blood in his head had other, more urgent matters to fulfill. Quickly, he squatted down to hide that damn growing bulge down there. Not a good idea. Jean had reached him by now and he found himself at eye-level with where her hand had _been_ only seconds before. Kurt felt dizzy. He caught a good glimpse at silky, light green underwear before two hands pulled him back up to a standing position.

"Kurt! Listen to me!"

The hands where shaking him.

"Kurt! Please! You have to help me!"

Kurt threw a puzzled look at Jean as the red-haired girl leaned forward and pressed herself into him. What the hell was going on here?

He must've said (or thought) that aloud, for Jean answered him.

"It's Ororo and Logan! They are…"

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. No. He wouldn't think about that. He swung a mental baseball bat to swat the approaching images away.

"Oh, you know. Well, they're… projecting! Kurt! I can't shut them out!" Jean was rubbing herself against him now. Her voice became a buzz in Kurt's ears. He noticed that his arms had encircled her waist and that his hands were wandering down to cup her buttocks. Jeans hands tugged at his shirt. "Kurt? I need you!" Her thigh was pressing against him now and his brain made one last effort to bring him back to his senses: it made him throw his head back under the sensual assault so that it smashed it against the wall. And he hit the exact same spot where he had hit his head on the fridge minutes before. Stars exploded before his eyes and he felt as if somebody had just emptied a bucked of ice cubes over his head.

"Jean? Please, stop! This is wrong!"

"Kurt… I can't help it! I'm sorry!"

Something like a hot wave washed over him and with that a mixture of emotions that battered his last defenses down. Lust, hunger, need, frustration and panic about not being able to control. And an insatiable urge to touch that damn, silky looking blue fur. To feel it everywhere. 

With a low growl Kurt gave in to the emotions washing over him and pulled his shirt over his head. Jean followed suit and had her bare breasts pressed against him, rubbing up and down against his chest, not able to get enough of the sensation. Kurt's fingers began to explore her body, using the never broken rapport between them to find all her hidden spots and erogenous places. With the help of his tail he carried Jean back to the couch and began to get rid of the rest of their annoying clothes. Jean couldn't wait any longer. As soon as she was able to, she impaled herself on him and the shared feelings had them both over the edge within seconds. They collapsed panting and shaking in each others arms, not able to fully comprehend what just had happened. Jean cuddled down into Kurt's fur and ran her fingers through it. Kurt just lay there and tried not to think. After some minutes, Jean looked up. "They've stopped." Kurt took a look in her eyes, collected their clothes with Jean's help and his tail and bamfed them up into his room. "They better not find us like this."

"Hmm", came Jean's sleepy reply.

Kurt watched her close her eyes and hugged her to him, then he, too, felt the aftermath of what happened take it's toll on him. 

Kurt woke at the feeling of something tugging at his tail. He opened one eye and found Jean trying to unwind it from her left leg. 

"How late is it?"

Jean winced. "Oh, you're awake! Uhm, it's afternoon, I think. We should get up, shower and get dressed before they come looking for us."

Kurt nodded. 

"Could you bamf me over to my room?"

Kurt's face fell a little at that, but he had to admit that Jean was right. Showering together would take too much time.

"Sure. Grab your clothes."

In her room, Jean immediately limped over to her small bathroom. "See you later, Kurt. We should hurry."

Kurt watched the door close into his face and bamfed back to shower.

It took longer than he had expected. The memories of what had happened reactivated some southern body parts and taking care of that worked not as quickly as he would have liked. When he came down into the kitchen again, brushed and hungry from the teleporting and other activities, Jean was already sitting in front of the TV again, munching some fruits and talking to Storm about whatever. Everything looked completely normal.

Storm looked up at him with a disapproving look. "Hello Kurt! You could've kept Jean here some company instead of hiding inside your room the whole day long!" Kurt blinked. "Uh, yeah, sorry, Jean", he murmured. Jean dismissed him with a wave of her hand, not looking away from the TV screen for once. Somehow, it hurt. But they had to play it safe, didn't they?

It was time for dinner when the others came back from the concert. They where full of stories about what had happened, what they had seen, how the bands were dressed and a thousand other things. Kurt felt lost. He glanced over to Jean and heard her answer to Scott's questions: "No, nothing happened here. It was totally boring." 

"Poor baby!" Scott cooed, and Jean giggled and hit him playfully on the arm.

Kurt felt something break inside him. Boring, nothing happened. The nagging voice inside him, that had kept on telling him that Jean had only used him, grew louder. He excused himself as not feeling well and walked up to his room. 

I'm such an idiot! Jean wasn't herself! She had no control over what happened. And I couldn't control it either. It was nobody's fault. Only mine. How could I believe that this would mean something to her? I was the only male available at the time. It was pure chance. Nothing else. And I believed… Fool! Perhaps she never would have chosen me, even if I had been the last male on earth, if she hadn't been curious about how my fur felt. I mean, look at me! Perhaps the fur is the only thing that makes them like me? It's fluffy and soft, and that doesn't fit to a demon. So perhaps he's not fully one. He's more like a pet. How did Jubilee call me that day? A muppet? Pah! I will give them muppet! I am no pet, no animal. They can treat me as they want to, but they will not finish me off! I will survive. Somehow. God give me strength. I will never treat somebody like they treat me. Never! I want to make the world a better place. A place where there is space for people, PEOPLE like me. How can I do that? Hmm. Father Whitney said something about a new shelter for the homeless. Perhaps I can help him there? I will go and ask him first thing tomorrow. Well, first thing after school.

_Muppet. Pah! You'll see. _

The end.


End file.
